


Mors Debitionem Onem Retribuit

by seasaltmemories



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: 1890s, Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, Family Secrets, Gothic, Love/Hate, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Or one (1) grad student who just wants to finish his thesis, Romanticism, Sexual Subtext, Who will win: an ancient terrifying vampire heiress?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2020-11-28 20:02:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20972264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seasaltmemories/pseuds/seasaltmemories
Summary: The year is 1897, and Alm Schafer is just another university student looking to find his place in the world.  However, when his studies take him into foreign lands, he finds himself in the strangest manor he has ever encountered.  From the maid's too large eyes to the cook's fondness for knives, what ties them all together is their mysterious mistress: Countess Celica Vaduva.The Countess is many things: brooding, eccentric, capricious, yet also alluring.  As the two are drawn together, Alm starts to wonder if the secrets lining her past just might be the key for understanding his own.  Still all information comes with a price.  The only question is if he'll regret paying it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween! To celebrate I decided to give these two a vampire au to have some Gothic fun, expect heavy shout-outs to Dracula and general nerdiness!

As Alm hugged his overcoat closer to his body, he couldn’t help but bemoan just how far from Ram Village he was.

Back when he had first left, gifted with Gray and Tobin’s teasing remarks and Grandpa’s warnings to carry him to the train station, Berlin had felt like the ends of the Earth. All he had to his name was a newly discovered yet dead father’s inheritance and a burning desire to learn. It was too much to waste away in the countryside, but the sheer volume of universities and libraries the capital had to offer him seemed like it might swallow him whole.

Yet here he was, in the heart of an entirely foreign country with nothing but a satchel and the clothes on his back to call his own.

It had seemed like such a romantic notion back in Berlin. When his professor had waxed the wonders of field research, the chance to engage with a living history and build an entirely new understanding of culture and society, he had wanted nothing more than to be a part of that. He had signed up for the program that day, ignoring Kliff’s letters questioning the practicality of such study or Faye’s worries for his safety. He was going to be a man of science, a pioneer of philosophy, and nothing like inconsistent funding and dubious travel plans was going to stop him.

But reading of Romania and navigating it were two very different things. Asking the locals for directions only revealed just how awkwardly his tongue curled around words he had thought he had known. Their rat-a-tat replies sent him diving for his translation dictionary with an embarrassing frequency. And with only the ever dimming autumn sun to light his way, he was becoming acutely aware of just how alone he was.

He had been lucky to find himself a carriage driver who knew the manor he was looking for. The fact he had charged double of what Alm had prepared to pay had been unfortunate, but he had been too eager to get out of the chilling winds to complain too much. If he had possessed half a mind, then perhaps he would have been prepared for the sight that laid before him once he arrived.

It seemed the estates here less resembled the clean and modern architecture he had grown familiar with in Berlin and more the ancient castles of fairy-tales. Vaduva Manor was a twisted labyrinth of spires and dark stone. He couldn’t imagine any man to have designed such a monstrosity. If he didn’t know better he might have convinced himself the place was some ancient, eldritch beast that had decided to rest on this cliff. It seemed primordial, alien to all conceptions of humanity.

It was only the whine of a horse that managed to bring him back to earth. Alm turned around just in time to see the carriage driver take off back down the hillside.

“Wait!” He ran after him. “Just give me five minutes--please don’t leave me alone!” But despite his cries, the most the driver gave him was a quick “God bless,” and the sign of the cross across his heart.

Alm felt his blood run cold. With a sigh, he mirrored the cross as well and turned to face the manor again.

It was hard to get out of that loop, stewing in the unfortunate turn of events. It was like his thoughts were a runaway train. There was a reason he had described the place as a sleeping beast. It seemed as if it had been untouched by humans for centuries. With the driver gone, he’d have to stay the night here no matter what, possibly doomed to wander an abandoned citadel home to dangerous creatures of all types, and oh why had he ever left Ram if this was all university was going to bring him?

With a surge of energy, he slammed the brakes on his thoughts by slamming the knocker against the door. The heavy thud echoed in his ears, consuming his mind until there was no room left for worry. All he could do was wait.

When the door opened, Alm finally remembered to breath. Quickly he reached for the speech he had prepared.

“Greetings...freends!” He cringed at his mispronunciation. “I have come to request an audience with the Count.” He glanced at the servant, hoping he had made a lick of sense. However instead of the old maid he was expecting, a young girl stood before him, staring.

“Excuse me?” That by now he had at least memorized. Alm had expected to be received in a variety of ways, with confusion or frustration, maybe even disgust, but he hadn’t expected this: a girl swallowed in amber-golden puffs of hair blankly assessing him.

“Count Lima Vaduva.” At this point he was trying to grasp at anything, provoke something in the maid, but her face stayed just as undisturbed. “Please I’m from Engel College you see. My adviser is Clive Herrmann. He told me the Vaduva’s have been benefactors of us in the past, so he might be interested in helping me with my current study and--”

“Count’s dead.” The servant girl voice came out in a slow wisp.

“Dead?” Alm whispered. It was only one word, but it managed to kill all his hopes in one fell swoop. A gust of wind tore through the slips of his overcoat, slithering across his bare skin. He wondered if he had ever been this cold in his life before--if he had even been so lost and alone.

“Yes dead.” The girl’s tone was firm, yet a furrowed brow marred her otherwise empty countenance. “Perhaps you would like to see the Countess?”

Relief flooded his veins, a more heady champagne than the bottle Python had stolen for the gang back during their first years. “Yes, thank you, thank you so much!”

As he was led inside the manor, he felt his nerves calm for the first time in days. The dim candlelight and finely furnished interior proved that the girl was not some ghost haunting an abandoned estate. With a polite yet professional briskness, the girl set him down in a parlor.

“Wait here.” With that she vanished into the rest of the manor without a sound.

Left to his own devices, Alm tried to study his surroundings, hoping it would put the strange exterior into context. After all the, um, eccentricities of the place probably had its own charm. He probably just had to get adjusted to its taste.

Looking at the parlor closely, he could tell that it had been decorated with both care and taste, even if it wasn’t his particular style. Although the more he thought about it, this style didn’t seem to look like anything that had been made in the past twenty years. So strange, usually the parlor was where a family displayed their finest dressings, but then these were probably antiques that had been handed out. Well then again he was just an uncultured country boy, that’s what Alm kept telling himself when he noticed the layer of dust coating the tables.

There was a creak, and he couldn’t help but flinch. Now that his eyes had adjusted from the darkness of outside, he realized just how much the candles left unlit. The corners of the room shifted with shadows. Obviously it was just do the flickering lights, not because there was something there. With a little more time he’d adjust to--

There was a tap on his shoulder, and it took all his willpower not to jump out of his skin. Slowly he turned to find that the girl from before had entered again without him knowing.

“Announcing the Right and Honorable mistress of the manor,” She fell into a deep curtsy. “The Countess Celica Vaduva.”

Immediately, Alm stood bowing just as fully.

“Your Ladyship...” It was only know that he was bent did he regret not pulling out his dictionary to practice this beforehand. “I am honoring to be in your pree--”

Before he could continue, a hand gripped his chin. As it lifted his face, he couldn’t help but gasp. Maybe it was the loneliness of his trip getting to him, but in that moment all he wanted to do was stare and take in the stranger that stood before him.

The Countess was beautiful, that much was obvious to anyone with seeing eyes. But Alm wasn’t a lecherous pervert, he had seen many pretty ladies and gone on his day without giving them a second though. Still for her simple, black silks, there was an unearthly grace to her entire silhouette. From how she held her elegant neck to the way her red curls fell gently across her shoulders to frame her face, it all moved him in a profound yet incomprehensible manner.

“Please don’t try that again.” Her nails scraped lightly against his jaw. “Do you speak German?” Her grasp of his mother-tongue was much more thorough than his of Romanian. What trace of an accent that lingered only gave her words a gentle, soothing lithe.

“German, yes, thank you!” God, even her speech was captivating. Her ruby red lips against her pale white skin were a striking contrast. He wanted to commit everything about them to his memory, from their shape to their texture.

With a jerk, Alm forced himself to look away. Swooning over a noblewoman was not the way to start his field research.

The Countess giggled. Her laughter was thick and weighty, like a warm cloak had suddenly been fastened to you. “My when Genny described you, I didn’t expect you to be quite so shy.” She laughed again, but before he could self-combust from her teasing she graciously let go of his face and moved to sit across from him. “I’m curious about what kind of creature would show up at my door at this hour. Pray tell what is your name?”

“Schafer--Alm Schafer.” He scrambled back to his seat, grateful to move back into familiar territory. “Engel College...Clive Herrmann, does any of that ring a bell for you?”

“Not a single chime.” She laced her fingers together.

“I was surprised to find out that the former Count is dead,” Alm couldn’t stop himself from thinking out loud. “If we hadn’t been under the impression he was still alive Professor Herrmann would have never sent me to disturb his...” He trailed off once he realized he had no clue just who in fact this woman was.

“Daughter. I’m his daughter. Forgive me for not informing the entire world about his death while I have been grieving.” Her apologetic tilt of her head did nothing to hide the bitterness of her words. 

“Oh, no, no, I understand that is was just a miscommunication error, please--”

“--Pardon me, Mr. Schafer, but all I really care to know is why you are here.” The Countess huffed. “I’m a busy woman, and you can’t ever regained wasted time.”

Alm took a deep breath. This had not been how he had anticipated his proposal going. It was all moving so much faster than he had prepared, banking on Count Lima’s pride as a patron to secure him a fortnight or so as he eased him into the idea of his research. Yet his sharp daughter had yet to turn him down. He had to adapt and make use of what goodwill he had if he truly cared about his studies.

“I’m very fascinated by aristocracy--” Alm tried to find words that would make sense to someone unfamiliar with academia. “--particularly in how it functions in newly-born modern nation such as Romania, and how the nation-state in turn influences the aristocracy.”

“I see.” The Countess said as if she clearly did not understand. “I’m not sure when Wallachia stopped being Wallachia, but I can tell you are a pupil of sorts, however peculiar you are.”

“See that’s what I’m talking about!” Alm leaned forward, carried away by the insight. “My research is all about learning what people like you think and why you feel that way. The past and present are not two separate planes but shape one another constantly. You must understand both to even approach one. Getting to observe your daily life, talking with you about various issues, why even just being allowed to access your family trees would make me the most blessed of scholars!” He fiddled through his satchel for his coin purse. “I know it is strange to request room and board before it is offered, but I can compensate you. Please understand that I come with nothing but sincere intellectual curiosity. Your compliance could help us expand our understanding of humanity like never before.”

The Countess was quiet, entwined hands hiding her expression. He didn’t quite understand what, if anything, had changed about her in their short time together, yet it still seemed as if something had soured between the two of them. The rancid odor of the faux pas seemed to consume the entire room.

“You play the ingenue quite well, Mr. Schafer, but I also see the true fox that hides behind your eyes.” There was a raspy quality to her voice now. “You come to a maiden’s abode at sunset, begging to know her. To turn you away from shelter at this time would be completely unexpected, a monster’s choice. You’re only mistake though was assuming that I couldn’t be cruel.”

She looked back up at him, those enchanting red lips quirked in a sly grin. “So tell me again Mr. Schafer. Why should I invite you into my humble home?”

Panic settled into his skin. When she put things like that, he did sound like quite the rake, asking to live with an unmarried woman. His first instinct was to try and defend his character, but the Countess gaze was so intense it left him speechless. Why was he here? He knew the steps that had carried him from Berlin to her doorstep, but now with an outsider’s eye, his actions seemed that of a madman’s. Disturbed, Alm cradled his temple. He was trying his best to string his thoughts together, but his mind was like a fogged moor. All he could do was wander it aimlessly as the shadows in the room seemed to grow larger and larger.

And yet just when he was sure they would swallow him, the Countess’ voice managed to dispel the darkness with just a word.

“It was wise of you to not try and deceive me. I have no need for your money, but honesty is quite the rarity.” She stood. “You may stay and conduct your odd research, but by it’s end you must convince me why I have also profited. If I find your answer lacking well--” She smiled, but something about the action was wrong. The vast whiteness of her teeth seemed as if it might devour him whole. “--I’ll suggest my own payment.”

Before he could respond, the Countess had already turned her back to him. “Genny can show you to your guest room. I suggest you retire soon. You’ll find Wallachian nights are often best avoided.”

After the constant back and forth his heart had endured, Alm find it difficult to muster much of a reaction at all for the rest of the evening. Even when the maid and her too quiet steps guided him into another equally alien and dark room, he found sleep was all that could move him.

But before dreamland could claim him, he remembered his journal. He had only gained it recently for this trip, but without proper notes, all his travels would be for naught. Dutifully, he tried to record the day’s events in as neutral and objective manner as possible. Yet when it came time to describe the Countess, he found his mind wandering.

_Her eyes were the most exotic of shades. Even know I struggle to name the particular hue. They were likely a unique shade of brown, one that would be perceived differently depending on the lightning._

_They were quite stunning, sometimes even appearing to be red._


	2. Chapter 2

Waking the next morning proved to be a difficult venture. Alm was used to thinking of himself as an early bird after having to rise before the sun often in his Ram days. Compared to the his urban-dwelling classmates, he had easily made all the early lectures Engel offered.

Yet here in Vaduva, returned to the waking world felt like mucking through a flooded field. Each step grew more and more difficult as the mud clung to your boots. When they were young and Kliff had shared a book of fairy-tales his mother had bought him, Alm started associated the sticky clinginess of the mire with the tight grip of mermaids dragging sailors below the waves.

It’s funny, he thought by now that he had outgrown those stories. But as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, it was difficult to escape those flights of fantasy. The outline of his room was hazy and difficult to make out. It would be easy for him to assume he was still dreaming some strange and dark nightmare and slip back into slumber, but just as Alm was about to close his eyes, a flash of sunlight cut across the room.

With a start, Alm rose, pulling back the curtains. Outside the sun hung high in the sky, burning bright and fierce. Good lord, how had he slept in until the middle of the day!? He wanted to just curl in a ball and die of embarrassment right there, but shame wouldn’t save what goodwill he had managed to cultivate last night. In a rush, he tried to make himself somewhat half-decent. Ugh, he hadn’t even changed out of his clothes from yesterday before falling asleep.

He stumbled out into the hallway prepared to get on his hands and knees to apologize for his faux pas. However as he scanned the hallway he remembered he had no idea how he got to this part of the manor. That revelation made him pause long enough for him to also realize just how quiet the manor was. No wonder he had been able to sleep for so long. The few noble households he had visited were bustling things with servants of all kind. The only sign of life he had observed so far had been the Countess herself and that silent maid of hers.

Before he could dive down more rabbit holes of conjecture, his stomach growled. For now, getting food was a good next step. That would likely involve people and help ease his nerves.

With all the courage he could muster in the moment, Alm went to the work exploring the manor. To his relief though, the task proved to be less harrowing than he feared. In the light of day, Vaduva Manor proved to be less gruesome than it had appeared the night before. It might be a little run-down, but it was far from the monster he had imagined it to be. There just never seemed to be enough light for his taste. As he descended down the staircase, he noticed just about every window in the place was curtained shut with heavy drapes. The fact even a flash of direct sunlight had been able to slip inside his room now felt like a miracle after seeing how carefully the rest of the manor was arranged to stave off the sun.

As Alm stepped down to the first floor, he could suddenly hear the faint sound of someone singing. Carefully he followed the voice further into the manor. As he sneaked past locked rooms with imposing mahogany doors, he found the interior blend into the plain, efficient trappings of a servant’s corridor. Unintentionally, Alm began to relax. He was much more used to handling servants than he was aristocrats. As fascinating as the latter were, with the former he didn’t need to use extremely formal language or keep track of any list of rules around them. It would be a nice break after last night.

The singing was louder as he approached the end of the hallway. As he pushed opened the last remaining door its hinges gave a loud creak.

“Excuse me, I--shit!” Alm dodged just in time to watch a knife whiz past him and land in the door, mere inches from his head.

“Oh?” He turned to find a woman with a messy strawberry blonde bun and stained apron studying him. “You must be the new guest Miss Celica mentioned last night.”

“Why did you just try to attack me?” He was doing his best to keep his voice level but couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting back to the knife.

“I wasn’t trying to kill you, I was just startled,” She explained as if talking to a small child. Without a second thought she walked up to him and grabbed the knife. “It’s a good thing I wasn’t holding my sharpest one, it could have gotten damaged.” Idly she plucked it from the wall before extending her other hand. “Name’s Mae Eder.”

“Um...Alm Scafer...” Still a bit shell-shocked and unsure of what else he should do, he shook it. “I really should be going...”

“Pfft, don’t act like you weren’t peaking your head around here just a minute ago. Trust me I don’t like spilling blood in my kitchen, so I won’t be throwing any more knives.” She grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and lead him to a stool next to the counter. “But why don’t you really try to stay on my good side and entertain me while I prepare lunch.”

So she was the cook. That wasn’t too unexpected given her attire, but for all her matronly nagging, she didn’t look that much older than him or the Countess--although he couldn’t help but spy a wedding band on her ring finger. It was difficult to focus much on that though because he was still having trouble ignoring the blade in her hand. If he was anywhere else, he’d demand a more sincere apology, but Vaduva Manor continued to prove to me more than just any other place. For now he’d do is job and try and untangle this curious mystery of an estate.

As he thought to himself, suddenly Alm came to a starling observation.

“Wait a second--” He turned back to the cook. “--you’re speaking German!”

“Oh, Miss Celica told us last night you struggled with your languages and asked that we accommodate you.”

Alm bristled at the backhand insult, but did his best to hold his tongue. “Does the entire household know German? I’m impressed. Does Countess Vadvua have family in the Empire?”

Mrs. Eder laughed, and Alm had trouble telling exactly what she thought was so funny. “Wow you’re exactly like Genny described you--just all hopped up on questions.” She pulled out what looked to be a fish and began preparing it.

“Is there something wrong with that?” Again his eyes were drawn to the metallic edge.

“I just have questions about you too.” She studied his figure without a degree of subtlety. “You’ll answer them, won’t you?” Her smile should have been friendly, but something about it continued to unnerve him.

At this point, Alm should have probably just listened to his self-preservation skills, but social conventions and the need for civility had hijacked his brain at this point.

“I suppose you’re interested in what I’m studying!” He forced on a smile. “I’m very fascinated by aristocracy, particularly in how it functions in newly-born modern nation such as Romania, and how the nation-state in turn influences--”

“--yeah, yeah--” Mrs. Eder interrupted him with a wave of her hand. “But anyway, I’m not the one to ask if you want to go digging in Miss Celica’s past, but German wasn’t that too hard too pick up. There’s only my husband and Genny besides me working here, so she doesn’t mind teaching us stuff when she has the free time.”

Only three servants? For this manor to be so understaffed, either the Countess was a neglectful mistress or there must be some serious financial problems. Damn it, he wish he had brought his journal down with him so he could take notes.

“Now it’s my turn to ask you a question.” She moved from her work and rubbed her hands together excitedly. “Just what type of weirdo would travel across the continent for that mouthful of a reason?”

This time Alm’s laughter was genuine. “You think I’m weird? My buddy Forsyth wanted to travel all the way down to the South Pole. He tried to sell it as part of some zoological research, but the man is a law student.”

To his relief, Mrs. Eder’s giggle seemed to be just as real as his. “I swear you university boys don’t have a lick of self-preservation in you!”

“I think he came up with it purely because his best friend dared him to.”

She descended into another fit of laughter before leaning in towards him. “What’s your excuse?”

A shiver went down his spin. He couldn’t have been more caught off-guard. He did his best to keep smiling and not break eye contact, but when he tried to open his mouth to speak, he found he really only could do those two first things.

Just when he was sure he was gonna faint from it all though, his stomach growled, answering for him.

“Well I’m here because I’m hungry. Hope that clears things up!” He scrambled off the stool, pawing at the counter for some sort of snack to grab onto. However just as his fingers grazed a bowl of some soup or another, Mrs. Eder lunged toward him.

No!” She grabbed the bowl from his hands and held it as far as she could from him. “Don’t touch that!”

Looking back, Alm had to admit he had forgotten his manners in his panic, not even asking if he could have whatever reddish thing was in it. His first instinct was to apologize, but as he looked Mrs. Eder in the eye, he found himself completely bemused. Even when at her most incomprehensible, there had always been a playful glint in her eyes--like a cat playing with a mouse. But now all that had been replaced with a naked fear. And with the way she bit her lip, she was starting to resemble more an animal with its back against a wall.

“I’m sorry,” Alm murmured. “Is there anything I can have?”

“No, it’s...it’s--” She glanced between the soup and the fish. “This is the servant lunch. It would be completely improper for you to eat with us.”

“Well when do you serve Countess Vaduva her meals?”

Mrs. Eder gave him a blank stare. “Umm, come around six? That’s the fastest I can whip you up a meal.”

“Alright, I’ll see you then.” He did his best to leave with some semblance of dignity, but he couldn’t help but look over his shoulder one last time.

He couldn’t help but wonder she might find herself “startled” again.

* * *

Once Alm made it back to his room, he fished out a loaf of bread from his satchel. Absentmindedly he tore at it as he recovered from the encounter with Mrs. Eder. Clearly she was not just any regular cook. He was trained never to make assumptions and inference without concrete evidence, but a knife in the door didn’t get anymore solid. Royalty had historically employed servants who could also serve as bodyguards, so in theory he could see lower nobility doing the same.

With his meal done and more questions than ever before, Alm went venturing again through the strange labyrinth of hallways. After he somehow managed to find himself outside he located a young man with light brown skin and a shock of white hair managing the stables.

Mr. Boey Eder seemed just as surprised by his appearance as his wife had, but thankfully this time no sharp objects were thrown. But then he seemed like a guy used to getting scared a lot. His interview was less than ideal considering Mr. Eder had been concerned about getting his work done as soon as possible, but while brushing a midnight-black mare, he let an interesting personal story slip.

“I’ve always had weak nerves. My family is prone to graying early from fright.”

“Oh have they tended to work with the Vaduva family?” Alm could see himself following a similar path if he had grown up in a manor like this.

“No, we’ve been fishermen all across the Mediterranean mostly. I was only hired after Madam Vaduva came to power.”

“I can see why a young noblewoman would need a stable-hand.” He focused on the second mare, this one a pale white, hoping to make his questioning less obvious. “She must enjoy traveling.”

“The Madam is too...” Mr. Eder paused, as if searching for the right word. “...fragile for much extensive travel.”

Alm couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. The Countess he encountered last night had seemed many things--powerful, arresting, but certainly not fragile. The only possible hint of sickness he could imagine was her alabaster skin, yet such a complexion he had written off as common here. For the life of him, he had trouble discerning why it seemed so natural, but the nagging insistence still persisted.

“I honestly would have never guessed...” Alm stroked the white mare absentmindedly. Somewhere he had lost the thread to this conversation; he didn’t quite know how to weave it all together. “Still it must be nice to have a mistress who doesn’t demand too much of you. I know some folks who would die for a position like this.”

He thought he was being civil by pushing the conversation in that direction rather than suggesting his job was unnecessary, but suddenly he felt Mr. Eder’s previously evasive gaze heavy on his body. Alm looked up to find dark brown eyes staring at him.

“Service isn’t something you perform halfheartedly. Madam Vaduva doesn’t demand much of me today, but tomorrow I could get assigned to run to the end of the earth. If all it took to buy my loyalty was coin, I wouldn’t be here. Her wages are made from something much more valuable.”

Previously Alm had been eager to write Mr. Eder as the more harmless of the couple, but suddenly he was aware that while there were no knives in the stable, there were plenty of shovels and pitchforks. Even in the hands of a well-intentioned person he had seem them do a fair share of harm.

This time he didn’t even bother to conjure up an excuse.

Back in his room, he tried to make sense of everything. His previous theory of court intrigue and clandestine meetings had completely collapsed. If the Countess wasn’t traveling to dangerous balls and other aristocratic outings, then who would she need protection from? What would she need protection from? Had this household once been more than a deadly loyal couple and a nearly mute wisp of a girl?

He started wondering how long it would take to schedule a trip back to Berlin, but pride steeled his nerves. What would he tell Mr. Herrman, that a few unsettling servants had scared him away before he had been there twenty-four hours? He hadn’t even had a proper conversation with the Countess yet!

The Countess...remembering her calmed his panic From a purely intellectual standpoint, she was a catch. He had chosen Count Lima as his case study because from the little information Engel had on him suggested he was a fairly average. Sure the fact he was a countryside recluse wasn’t ideal, but even in the Empire, nobility had been fading into the background. He did his job, kept his head down, and had the potential to be plied through intellectual curiosity.

Countess Vaduva was an entirely different creature. Just being a young woman was enough to set her apart from other potential subjects, but it was more than her gender and age that enticed him. She carried herself with a regal sort of authority. Nobility seemed to be more than just a title she had been given, but a quality she knew like the back of her hand. The few disowned aristocrats he had come across in Berlin had been underwhelming and disappointing. She felt like the real thing--something worth crossing the continent for.

_Is she truly your Platonic ideal or are you simply infatuated? What kind of researcher are you to end up with a mess like this?_

Alm rubbed his eyes. He wished he could unscrew his head and discard his brain for just a few hours, be thoughtless and free. It seemed even his overly long slumber last night hadn’t fully erased his exhaustion from travel it seemed. It would be indulgent to nap again, but he needed something to occupy himself until dinner. Might as well let his body rest after all piling all that stress on it.

As he snuggled back under the covers, he thought of the letter he had been meaning to write to Grandpa. If he craned his neck, he could still spot it peeking out from his overcoat pocket. He had started it thousands of times, now that he was here would the words finally come?

Alm pulled the blanket over his head. He’d save the mysteries and conundrums for a version of himself that might actually have the mental capacity to untangle them.

Although as he drifted back to sleep, a little voice inside his head questioned if that would ever be the case.

* * *

When he awoke a few hours later, the darkness of his room frightened him. Not because he was still a child scared by shadows, but because as he blinked away the sleep from his eyes, he remembered Mrs. Eder’s promise of a meal. As he barreled out of his room, he ran across the first clock he had noticed in the entire place. Its plated face informed him that, yes he was not only late, but about an hour late. In a made rush he scrambled down the stairs, only realizing he wasn’t sure where this meal was supposed to take place.

Panic perched itself on his shoulder, as if it was an old friend by now. He had heard Forsyth describe an American game where the player was give three chances to hit a ball. Alm didn’t want to test his own luck and see if it would take more before the manor itself decided to throw him out. He couldn’t fail. Not now, he wouldn’t go back to Berlin empty-handed and lost.

With one last burst of energy, he pushed aside a pair of mahogany doors. As he caught his breath, he found something that managed to be both exactly what he expected yet completely different. A splendid dining table laid before his, cloaked in a pristine white cloth and perfectly set. Candles lit the meal, and in another world the formality of it all would have taken his breath away a second time. But when he looked closer to examine the actually dishes laid out, he found them perplexing. There were no meats, vegetables, or even simple bread-stuff. Jars of all different shapes and sizes were arranged across the table. Inside them he found different jams and preserves. He didn’t know what confused him more, that Mrs. Eder had pulled out an entire dinner’s worth, or that she hadn’t even deemed it necessary to remove them from their cases.

“Is everything to your liking sir?”

This time, Alm couldn’t stop himself but jumping at the sudden sound. He swiveled around to find the quiet maid from before, now speaking full sentences.

“Of course!” He fawned like an idiot. Internally he cringed, wondering how he was expected to survive on jellies alone, but then he noticed one important detail. The Countess was nowhere to be seen.

“Um...Miss Genny?” It seemed he had caught her in the middle of one her stealth escapes, because she was already half out the door when he spoke. In a bird-like manner she cocked her head back to look at him with those wide eyes. “I was told that I was to attend the Countess’ meals. Is this not her dinner?”

“Dinner?” She repeated, as if it was a foreign concept.

“Is she eating?” He tried in his best Romanian.

“Oh, the Countess won’t appear. She says she is feeling under the weather.” With that, Genny made her get-away, leaving him alone with the odd meal.

Not knowing what to do, he plopped down in a random chair. Idly he grabbed a reddish-colored jar. It looked to be a strawberry concoction of sorts, but as he tried to scoop out a bite, its rank scent turned his stomach.

With a sigh he pushed it away. It seemed he was better at finding questions rather than any true answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit more exposition and letting Alm get acquainted with the rest of the cast, he's already not having the best of times, but unfortunately he still hasn't seen the half of what's in store for him


End file.
